


Honey

by htebazytook



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beorn's House, Durincest, First Time, Food Sex, Humor, Incest, M/M, PWP, Romance, Sex Pollen, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone keeps hitting on Bilbo.  Sex pollen, and creative use of honey.  Yeah, there's really not much of substance here.  Except the honey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, as so many things in life are, by [Tumblr.](http://terracendant.tumblr.com/post/42778304136/there-is-a-sad-lack-of-sex-pollen-hobbit-fics) I don't know how bee hives work, and I don't particularly care :)

**Title:** Honey  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <—  
 **Pairing:** Bilbo/Thorin, (brief Fili/Kili, implied Bilbo/Dwarves and just Dwarves/Dwarves in general)  
 **Time Frame:** Beorn's house  
 **Author's Notes:** Inspired, as so many things in life are, by [Tumblr.](http://terracendant.tumblr.com/post/42778304136/there-is-a-sad-lack-of-sex-pollen-hobbit-fics) I don't know how bee hives work, and I don't particularly care :)  
 **Summary:** Everyone keeps hitting on Bilbo. Sex pollen, and creative use of honey. Yeah, there's really not much of substance here. Except the honey.

 

 

"Why haven't you played your harp, then?" the Halfling is prying. They're alone in the great wooden hall, with Beorn's animals scattered and sleeping here and there.

"I have not brought it along for the journey, of course," Thorin says, staring into the crackling fire instead of looking at Bilbo.

Bilbo frowns in a way that incorporates his whole body, Thorin can see it in his peripheral vision. "Plenty of the others have done," Bilbo points out. "Bofur with his recorder and—"

"I am, unfortunately, very well aware of that," Thorin snaps. He is especially on edge because of the delay in their quest, not to mention the heat of the air, of the sun beating down on the roof of Beorn's house, and especially of the roaring fire they are sitting beside. Why Bilbo had lingered behind after breakfast to keep him company and refused Beorn's personal blend of tea the others had taken outside in the surely cooler gardens was a mystery to Thorin. "However it is not very kingly to join your comrades in a lighthearted tune round the campfire."

"I see," Bilbo says. "But singing is different, somehow?"

Thorin sighs and relents. "If you must know, I did not relish the thought of putting a very valuable instrument in unnecessary peril on the road, and have therefore left it behind."

"Oh right, yes that does sound practical. Made of gold and jewel encrusted, is it?"

"No," Thorin admits. "It was crafted in the old days, older even than the settling of Erebor, and given me by my father when I was but a young dwarf."

Bilbo laughs, and Thorin looks at him. He's sweating at his temples from the heat, and has untied his cravat and looped it around his neck in a manner most uncharacteristically careless of him. "You haven't brought your harp because it has too much sentimental value. That's rather sweet, really."

"I am Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror King under the Mountain, and I have not the luxury to be preoccupied with sentiment."

Bilbo ignores him, a new habit of his that Thorin is not sure he likes. The hobbit uses the edge of his sleeve to dab at his forehead. "It's a shame. I should have liked to have heard you play. It is very fortunate that we have found such a gracious host in Beorn, and very fortunate that Gandalf (wherever he's got to) thought to seek him out, but you must agree that a bit of music would make the place feel a little homier."

"Although it is not underground, I find this place brings me to mind of your house," Thorin says. It occurs to him that perhaps Bilbo is not honestly homesick, but merely someone who tends to complain no matter the circumstances.

"Hobbit-hole," Bilbo corrects. Quite unnecessarily prissily, in Thorin's opinion. "And you are right in a way. The hearth and the feather beds and the lovely flower gardens do remind me of home in their look. But I am finding that I miss home for different reasons than I started out missing it for. I begin to regret having taken it for granted, and I very much long to be there again to appreciate things like good meals and good company, instead of merely enjoying them."

"I fear you are right about the food, but surely you cannot find our company entirely unpleasant."

Bilbo smiles. "Not entirely, no."

The door bursts open, and Kili and Fili stumble in, apparently in scuffle of some kind. Only apparently, though, because in fact they're kissing each other ceaselessly on their way across the hall, tripping on the little log chairs and disturbing Beorn's slumbering animals who hiss or grunt or caw at them, depending, and slink away.

"I don't know why we're doing this," Fili pants between kisses.

Kili visibly sticks his tongue down Fili's throat before answering breathlessly, "I don't know why we _weren't_ doing this."

Fili moans as Kili sucks at his neck. A terrified fawn leaps away to safety. " _Ohh_ . . . there must've been a reason . . . it'll come to me . . . "

"Oh yes," Kili says as they disappear through a doorway, voice echoing ever fainter. "Yes, it will."

In the solid minute of stunned silence that follows Thorin can't think of anything to do other than look at Bilbo to confirm he isn't hallucinating. Bilbo's jaw had dropped at some point, and his already high color deepens rapidly across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears.

"I, er, _ahem_." Bilbo won't look at Thorin, busies himself straightening his shirt and (badly) rebuttoning his waistcoat, which is ridiculous considering how soiled and increasingly sweat drenched his clothes are. "That sort of . . . thing. Dwarves. With dwarves, that is. I . . . well. Common is it?"

"Not as such," Thorin says carefully, finding Bilbo's sudden eyes on him are oppressive, given Thorin's currently very complicated . . . mood. He clears his throat. "I would not call it surprising in this particular case."

"In the Shire it's . . . how do I say this? Not exactly spoken of, but not exactly unheard of. I can't speak for what folk in _Buckland_ get up to, however . . . "

"There are few female dwarves," Thorin points out.

"Oh? _Oh_. So, as a king, though, you'd practically have to take a wife, wouldn't you?"

"Most dwarves care little for the pleasures of the flesh," Thorin evades. "We devote ourselves instead to perfecting our crafts."

"I can understand that, a bit," Bilbo says. "I much prefer a good book over the messiness of romantic entanglements. I'm afraid that what little is achieved by them is unfailingly short-lived. It simply isn't a very practical pursuit, and I should much rather read about it in well-crafted words and at a safe distance, if you see what I mean."

"You are not quite like other hobbits, are you?" To Thorin, Bilbo was painfully hobbit-like, but there was a part of him that was perhaps more thoughtful than the rest of his kind.

"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment, Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror," Bilbo says, but a smile plays on his lips. "King under the Mountain," he hurries to amend.

Dori staggers in through the front door, tunic hanging open so half his chest is bared, boots and trousers conspicuously missing. Bilbo actually gasps at the sight, but Thorin holds up a hand as Dori approaches and says in a commanding voice, "Explain, Dori."

Dori is wild-eyed as he stands before them, and he talks quickly. "I feel ever so alive, here, do you not feel it also, Thorin? It is a joyful thing only to be able to walk among the beauty of the world!"

"Truly it is, Dori," Thorin says calmingly. Bilbo has relocated to Thorin's bench and is cowering behind him, just a little. "Tell me, did the beauty of the world alone put you in such high spirits?"

But Dori's attention has shifted to Bilbo. "Mister Baggins," he says, bowing, "you are as elegant as a rose."

Bilbo arches an eyebrow. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

Dori takes Bilbo's hand and kisses it like a maiden's, then says, "How soft your skin is, and how fair your countenance. You are a many faceted jewel among rough-edged stones, in our company."

"I am not a jewel, Dori," Bilbo says, patting Dori's hand before letting go. "I am but a bunny, according to our host."

Dori gazes ardently at him. "Then you are the most alluring bunny east of the mountains. And those _ears_ . . . "

Thorin bats Dori's reaching hand away. "What in Durin's name has got into you?"

"Oh, dear," Bilbo says, because Bofur has followed Dori in from outside, and is apparently also following his example.

"O Bilbo son of another hobbit," Bofur, who is missing his shirt, proclaims, "as I walked through the trees away yonder, in the glade a light was seen of stars in shadow shimmering . . ."

Bilbo frowns. "At elevensies?"

"Bilbo Baggins was dancing there!" Bofur shouts, making Bilbo jump. "To music of a pipe unseen, and light of stars was in his hair and in his raiment glimmering."

"No, no I don't think so actually . . ."

"Of course not, but thou art more fair than some excessively glorified Elven siren of the Elder Days!" Bofur continues, eyes raking up and down Bilbo in a way that makes Thorin's blood boil. "Those ears, those _feet_!"

"His mouth is red as an apple, juicy and ripened," Dori adds.

"And his eyes are seams of kyanite sparkling in the dark beneath the earth."

"He walks in beauty like—"

"Enough!" Thorin stands. Bilbo gulps. "Cease this untoward behavior," he commands.

Dori and Bofur look properly chastened for a moment, but after Bilbo stands beside Thorin and their attention shifts to him once again their eyes go hungry.

Balin, Nori, and Oin appear in the doorway, each sporting a similar look.

"Oh dear," Bilbo says weakly. "I don't know that I can cope with this."

"Off to the gardens," Thorin says, seizing Bilbo's arm and dragging him past the others and outside the house.

They pass what appears to be Gloin and Dwalin locked in an embrace in a thicket of azaleas, which Thorin would rather not examine too closely. Once they are well out of view and standing together in the fragrant summer air by the bee hives, Bilbo finally bursts:

"I feel more violated by dwarves than ever I did when you lot first invaded Bag End!" He licks his lips, pacing to and fro agitatedly. "I can take a joke as well as next hobbit, but this is crossing the line. Oh, but these flowers smell lovely . . . "

"Indeed," Thorin says, sniffing the air. "Still, I do not think you were subjected to a prank."

Bilbo's not listening to him."Oh, I feel dizzy, a bit . . . "

"You are not beautiful like a precious stone, or a legendary Elven princess."

"Hah! I should think not . . . I say, what sort of flower _is_ that, do you think? Lilac? No, more like lavender, really." Bilbo closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "Mmmm . . . "

Thorin can't tear his eyes away. "You are beautiful in a far less complicated way." Bilbo's eyes slide open, and he blinks slowly at Thorin. "Like the comfort of a familiar tune."

Bilbo's voice is throatier as he speaks. "Do you know, Thorin, I have a feeling there is possibly something in the air that is making things . . . " He keeps glancing between Thorin's mouth and eyes and licking his lips unconsciously. " . . . terribly hazy."

"It is nothing," Thorin insists, though he is unsteady on his feet under Bilbo's unwavering gaze. "There are species of flower in these parts that are unfamiliar to you, that is all."

Thorin's denial is nicely punctuated by an unmistakably passionate moan from behind the azaleas.

"Perhaps," Bilbo says, meandering closer, "it is some unknown magic of Beorn's people, and he is not only accustomed to it, but so large that it does not affect him as dramatically as it does you and I."

"I am not affected."

"Oh, good. Then you shan't have an unkingly response to this." And Bilbo lures Thorin down into a kiss. Thorin can't say who reached for who, exactly, but the heat of Bilbo's mouth amid the heat of the rising sun and the thickness of the air becomes quickly addictive.

Thorin pushes back with some effort, to which Bilbo only lunges at him again, and before long they are kissing deeply and sloppily and the sounds Bilbo makes during it are as addictive as his mouth.

Bilbo breaks the kiss on a gasp and licks his lips nervously, but they're so close that his tongue runs over Thorin's mouth in the process so Thorin sucks on it until Bilbo groans and clutches at him and presses so close that Thorin can feel exactly how interested he is in their current state of affairs.

"We must get out of sight," Thorin gasps. He's certain if he does not say it now he will lose all control and have Bilbo here in a meadow in full view of anyone who happened to walk this way.

"Mmm, if you say so," Bilbo says. He says it against Thorin's neck, which he is mouthing distractingly. "The others did seem to be a bit preoccupied, though."

Thorin tilts Bilbo's head up for another kiss that Bilbo melts into wonderfully, then leads him further into the little village of wooden hives and shoves him roughly against one without giving heed to any potential inhabitants.

They are not assaulted by an army of bees, however, so Thorin takes that as a sign he should continue. Bilbo certainly seems to be in agreement, the way he squirms under Thorin's touch and tears at his clothes impatiently, clever little hands stealing inside Thorin's tunic, caressing his chest before Bilbo bends to leave kisses everywhere he touches, tongue snaking out to flick delicately at a nipple and sending lust surging sharp through Thorin's veins.

Bilbo's shirt falls away at last, and Thorin pulls his tunic over his head before pressing up against Bilbo and kissing him, and the excitement of skin against skin is another layer of heat added to the mindless heat of the day. Thorin's very thoughts are replaced by the smell of grass and flowers and Bilbo, and he cannot say why he wants this, but only that he feels he won't survive without the taste and feel of him.

"What in the Shire," Bilbo mutters between kisses, then leans away from the hive. "Augh! Oh botheration, it's everywhere."

"What is?"

Bilbo heaves a sigh. "This!" He twists to reach his shoulder and holds up a finger coated in honey. "How am I supposed to get this off of . . . oh, that could, er . . . " Thorin sucks the rest of Bilbo's finger into his mouth just because it makes Bilbo's eyes widen, then flutter and then he grinds his hips against Thorin's helplessly and breathes, " . . . could work. _Ah_ . . ."

Thorin licks Bilbo's finger clean and gathers up more of the stuff as it drips slowly down the side of the hive, then smears it across Bilbo's chest. Bilbo gasps as Thorin sucks it up from his skin, having to scrape it off with his teeth in places due to its stubborn stickiness, which elicits a delightfully strangled-sounding moan from Bilbo.

Bilbo's hands tangle in Thorin's hair as Thorin tastes him, salt from his sweat and the raw sweetness of the honey clinging to fair skin. Thorin laps it all up greedily, possessed by his senses, by the way Bilbo shivers and moans beneath him as he licks into his navel and up his chest. Thorin sucks so hard at the little pool of honey at Bilbo's collarbone that he leaves a violent red mark in his wake.

Bilbo lets his hands roam down Thorin's back, across his chest and lower and that's when Thorin feels something quite unlike a hand on his stomach. He looks down and sees a generous dollop of honey there, glances up in time to see Bilbo looking completely mischievous while sucking his fingers clean.

Bilbo tackles him, kisses him into the high grass while Thorin's head spins, then shifts lower to taste the honey off of Thorin's skin, being very leisurely and sensuous about it, pink tongue laboring to lick it all up while his fingers trail up and down Thorin's sides before working his trousers open and wrapping around Thorin's cock.

Bilbo strokes it lightly, mouth descending along the trail of hair down Thorin's torso until he's licking up Thorin's cock and maddeningly against the head. He takes it into the heat of his mouth, sucks experimentally, then takes it deeper and sucks so hard as he pulls off of it that Thorin shouts. Bilbo only laughs and kisses the tip messily.

Thorin pulls Bilbo up to kiss him, tasting sweetly of honey and sharply of himself. Bilbo responds with enthusiasm, grinding against Thorin's thigh impatiently.

Thorin unbuttons Bilbo's breeches and pushes his smallclothes out of the way until he's touching Bilbo's cock, hard and very thick and leaking at the tip. Bilbo gasps, "Thorin, _ah_ ," and thrusts into it a few times before repositioning himself so that their cocks line up. Bilbo then licks Thorin's hand lasciviously and wraps it around them both, buries his face in Thorin's neck and starts to move his hips.

Thorin's vision blurs and his body vibrates with the sound of Bilbo's tiny keening moans into his shoulder. He squeezes his hand tighter around them, to which Bilbo makes a desperate sound and thrusts faster. Bilbo's movements grow more erratic, and soon he fists his hands painfully in Thorin's hopelessly knotted hair and gasps and twists and spills warmth between them.

Thorin continues to tug his own cock while Bilbo rolls off of him, kissing Thorin's neck and biting his earlobe and whispering into his ear, "You look delicious right now, you know. I want to have you anywhere I can, and as often as possible. I want you to take me whenever you like—some night in camp when you can't fall asleep, and we'll have to be utterly quiet; again inside the house in a sectioned off room where we won't have to be quiet in the least; on that vast pile of gold once we've slain the dragon with coins clinking and making an awful racket. Behind any rock or tree or in plain view of anybody at all, if you like. But right now, I just want you to look at me."

Thorin obeys, and Bilbo's expression is sated and soft but desire still burns in his eyes. Thorin stills, then thrusts rapidly into his hand and climaxes while Bilbo's gaze weighs on him heavy as a physical touch.

They lay like that for a blissfully blank long while, while summer sounds and gentle breezes coax them toward sleep. Bilbo curls up against Thorin like a particularly sticky pillow, but Thorin can't seem to muster much annoyance at how overheated he is.

Thorin is waked from his dozing by the distinctive bellowing of a nearby wizard. Bilbo is already propped up on an elbow, grass in his hair, and listening.

"Fools!" Gandalf cries from the house. " _This_ is what you've been doing all day? Indulging yourselves with . . . well, with one another, apparently. And without a thought to planning the next stages of your journey? Luckily for you, _I_ have not been idle. Whatever possessed you to drink Beorn's tea? Hardy though Dwarves may be, its special properties render it much too strong for folk of your stature. Well, clearly!"

Bilbo stares at Thorin in shock, then quickly averts his eyes. "The tea," he says.

"So it would seem."

"I didn't think it smelled at all like proper tea, but it would've been terribly impolite to our host to say so, which is why I stayed behind with you when the others went outside. Not— _not_ because—" Bilbo gestures between them. "— _not_ , I assure you, and—"

"Bilbo."

"Please know that I certainly did not have _designs_ on you, and I am perfectly willing to forget this unfortunate incident entirely, which is for the best really, and you needn't worry about—"

"Bilbo."

Bilbo sighs, won't look at him. "If you cannot forgive me for being so indecent, I quite understand."

Thorin laughs, and Bilbo finally gets a look at his expression. "You are forgiven. And I hope to forgive you many times over, in the future, if you are not adverse to it."

Bilbo starts to smile, and Thorin pulls him down for another honeyed kiss.

*


End file.
